


be my unholy, my one and lonely

by takaraikarin



Category: Alice Nine, Jrock, the GazettE
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bathroom Sex, Bottoming from the Top, Emotional Manipulation, Infidelity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sexual Content, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takaraikarin/pseuds/takaraikarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here’s the dirty not-so-little secret: Uruha is a big fake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	be my unholy, my one and lonely

For [](http://acu-saree.livejournal.com/profile)[**acu_saree**](http://acu-saree.livejournal.com/). And the over-abundant reasons to do so (like, try everything under the sun).

 **Title:** this ship is gonna look pretty at the bottom of the sea (like dirty little secrets)  
 **Author:** Takarai Karin  
 **Fandom:** J-Rock. (Gazette; Alice Nine)  
 **Pairing:** (past)Tora/Uruha, (present)Aoi/Uruha  
 **Rating:** NC-17 for language and adult themes and possible disturbing ideas. Please be warned.  
 **Disclaimer:** No owning. Just fangirling. No suing.  
 **Feedback:** Yes, please. The more the merrier ♥

**H** ere’s the dirty not-so-little secret: Uruha is a big fake. At least, that’s what he feels about himself most of the time. If only he could blame it on cyclothymia, things would’ve been a lot easier to handle; solely because he could then tell his own conscience it’s not his fault. He just can’t help it.

> (except that’s a total lie, and Uruha might be rather gifted with concealment and secrecy if it’s towards the rest of the world, but he’s pathetic when it comes to lying to himself --although admittedly, that never stopped him from trying).

**A** nd here’s the (aforesaid big, fat, repelling) lie: Uruha is a proud, mature grown man, and things like holding grudges and nurturing old wounds are beneath him. He doesn’t let people that had hurt him in the past occupy his mind too much, and his life is content. And he’s in a healthy, loving relationship where his boyfriend never uses words to shame him (words that burned his ear with those breaths against his lobe) and submission is given voluntarily, not by force (not by angry markings on his skin and hands that pulled tightly at his hair, his cock, his heartstring; and not by taunting smiles, pointing how much his body _loves_ it). Uruha is not the sick type that gets off on such decadence.

> (except, haha, that’s kind of a hard rationale to support, when it took all of one and a half minutes for him to stop trying to push away the solid body pining him flush against the wall. It’s obvious all of his trashing around is just exciting the guy even more, based on the hardness pressing against his hip. When a hand harshly grabbed at his ass and pulled his pelvis forward against said hardness and started creating callous frictions, he gasps. The rough texture of his jeans is rubbing on the sensitive skin of his crotch, and there’ll be chafing latter, he just knew it. That’s when his hips decided to treacherously grind back and Uruha bites his lower lip really hard, coz it’s not like the grinning man in front of him needs more proof of how aroused he is).

**H** ere’s the ugly (because inconvenient is an understatement) truth: after trying to steel his resolve around Tora while almost constantly sharing workspace with that ex of his, after (admittedly pretty impressive) three months of stomping down any kind of advances the black-haired man gave towards him, Uruha did the one thing he always told himself not to- he had sex while he’s at work, making music.

He still regrets that lapse of control, but encounters with Tora (almost daily) where he would still get inside his personal space (standing close enough to feel breaths on his ear shell, and not-quite-touch him with fingers hovering close on forearms and the line of his vertebrae), or stare at him almost unblinkingly, all of that were making him constantly irritated and on edge. For some idiotic reason at the time he thought sex-induced satiation would help.

And Aoi, he’s only human, and that slow recording day two months ago, when he saw Uruha’s biting his lips like _like that_ , and was looking at him from half-lidded eyes, making sure he was watching. A hand reached back to his hair and let the previous ponytail loose with a flick of ivory wrist in an impressive cascade of fair hair, and it was all he could do not to instantly sprint towards his boyfriend after he pointedly exited the practice room with a fleeting glance his way.

Less than three minutes later and they were cramping in a tiny bathroom stall. Uruha had one hand pumping Aoi’s erection, and the other was between his own spread thighs, three fingers already inside his hole, impatiently preparing himself. Aoi couldn’t quite remember if he ever seen his boyfriend that desperate, coming up with no, no way, since this is Uruha, and he’s always composed and graceful. Usually. Not that he was objecting the sight in front of him at the time. His boyfriend’s mouth was gaping, breath coming in gasps as he stretched himself. It was the hottest damn thing Aoi had ever seen.

The hand around his cock tightened, and it was his turn to gasp. ‘Come on, come on,’ his boyfriend almost whined against his collarbone as he tried to angle Aoi’s cock into his entrance. The slant’s kind of wrong and awkward, and his erection kept slipping in the wrong way, and the blond in his arm was biting his lips harder now, a frustrated whimper echoing onto the tiled room again. It was a bit worrying for Aoi to see that expression on his boyfriend’s face.

‘Hey, hey, easy there,’ he got a shook head at that ‘come on, it’s okay, just jump up,’ he added, trying to place the blond’s legs around his waist. Uruha paused for a bit.

‘No- just-’ he looked around before pushing Aoi on top of the closed toilet seat. ‘Okay, just sit,’ he mumbled quickly, almost dazedly, before straddling Aoi’s lap and positioning his hole straight on his cock.

‘Shit.’ Aoi cursed, hand brazed on the stall’s wall and trying very hard not to embarrassingly come right then, as his erection was sheathed inch by excruciatingly mind-blowing inch of tight muscles that felt so good for his cock, it seemed ridiculous that it should ever exist outside of that passage. ‘Shit. _Uruha…_ ’ was what he could only breathed as all of his senses focused on the heat of Uruha surrounding him. He quickly placed his hands on his boyfriend’s hips, halting him from moving just yet. _No fucking this up now, Aoi,_ he warned himself.

But his beautiful boyfriend, with his glistening thighs that spread for him and his flushed erection leaking out on him, was staring with an unfamiliar look on his face. That light of desperation was back in his eyes, and it troubled Aoi to see it. Why should he ever be desperate? Why was he looking at him like there’s something he craved, like it’s a painful craving and yet he said nothing to Aoi? He should know that he could ask anything from him, say anything to him.

_He knows that, right?_

Before his head could delve on the dreaded possibilities, though, Uruha once again shook his head sharply before bracing his arms on Aoi’s shoulder and despite the hands holding him in place, he still started pulling his hips up, before sliding on Aoi’s cock back down, the movements sharper and faster with gravitation on his side. Aoi groaned loudly at the unexpected friction, the sensation almost made him felt light-headed. Uruha repeated the movement, going faster and faster as his passage got slicker and slicker with Aoi’s own pre-come helping the lubrication.

Wet slapping sounds accompanied Uruha’s gasping breath. Quicker and quicker still. His moans were getting higher then, as he wrapped a hand to simultaneously jerk his own cock. Everywhere on his body Aoi could only saw desperation. He could barely saw a familiar part of Uruha in the wanton body currently impaling himself hard on him, riding his dick like that was it- that was the only part of Aoi the blond needed then.

They hadn’t even kissed that day. They weren’t even looking at each other. Whatever it was that Uruha saw as his eyes glazed over like that, it certainly wasn’t Aoi.

Suddenly he was just irrationally angry and inexplicably sad. He wrapped his arms around the blond’s waist then and started thrusting upwards in an angle that he knew would stroke his prostrate. Uruha _keened_. He did it again and again until finally the blond froze on top of him, neck thrown back as his orgasm hit. He could feel shudder after shudder of his boyfriend riding out his climax and while usually pleasuring his boyfriend would always felt so good, at that time Aoi could only felt drained. After Uruha relaxed, he pushed the pliant body off of his lap (perhaps harder than necessary) wincing as the stretched skin of his hard on slipped out of Uruha.

The blond, who was leaning against the wall then, looked up in confusion and Aoi almost caved at the puzzlement in his eyes. But he only stood up, cleaned up as much as he can, straightened out his shirt and stuffed his stiff cock back into his pants. Uruha, definitely puzzled now, reached out to touch him.

‘You haven’t-’

A cold look from Aoi made him paused, even as Aoi started unlocking the stall. ‘Just- don’t.’ was what he last said before he went out, and Uruha kind of felt so shitty right then, kind of couldn’t remember another instance where he’s more disgusted with himself. There was no post-coital repletion, just a sickening feeling in his stomach.

> (except when he was finally composed enough to came out of the stall and was washing his hand in the lavatory his skin prickled and the nausea he felt changed into dread in a split second. When he looked up in the mirror he saw Tora already standing behind him. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that matched the crimson glow from the tip of the cigarette he was sucking. He slowly stalked forward, and Uruha spun around, willing his body not to flinch. It didn't help that he had the lavatory behind him and there wasn’t much space for him to back away.
> 
> When Tora finally stood in front of him, he let his gaze traveled leisurely along the length of the blond’s body, noting the crumpled clothing, the mussed up hair, the heavy scent of sex coming out of his pores and Uruha never felt as exposed as he was right then. Those eyes stopped at the lips the blond had almost bitten raw earlier, almost indecently red and blooming. Tora’s own lips curved into a smirk. It was familiar, Uruha knew well what that means, and he wasn’t sure if the shiver running down his spine was from trepidation or excitement. Most likely both.
> 
> His eyes said he knew something Uruha probably doesn’t want him to and his smirk said he’s done pretending Uruha meant it when he rejected him. He won’t take no for an answer anymore.
> 
> Tora took another long drag from his cig before startlingly grabbing Uruha by the chin, forcing his jaw open with firm fingers. He crushed their mouths together and exhaled the smoke into Uruha’s mouth, causing him to almost choke, but Tora wasn’t letting him go, not just yet, he still wasn’t done plunging his tongue inside the other’s mouth, groaning at the familiar flavor he hadn’t tasted in a while. Actually, now that he has the blond back where he belong, in his arms, he won’t be letting go anytime soon)

**S** o here’s the cold hard fact: after years of steering clear from dysfunctional relationships and after months of avoiding Tora when he unexpectedly came back to his life again (telling himself he deserves positive things, _normalcy_ ), somehow Uruha still found himself on his back on Tora’s bed. They’ve been pushing each other’s buttons all night. Although neither one of them are screamers, Tora barked out stuff that would’ve made most people cower, and Uruha’s snipes are worst than acid. He still wants that image of a loving relationship he had with Aoi (and Aoi had been amazing as a boyfriend, and even more so as an ex-boyfriend, as they both try not to hurt the band with personal issues), still believes he deserves better than this warped out romance.

At one point while scathingly spatting at each other’s throat, Tora grits his teeth and shoves Uruha against the nearby wall. ‘Do you honestly think,’ he snarls ‘that he’d be better than _this_?’ he says, punctuating the line with more force on Uruha’s body, trapping his hands on either side of his head. His face dives forward but Uruha’s sharply turns.

‘I know you _best._ ’ and he says it against the crook of the other’s neck instead. Uruha strains his hands, see if he can push him away, but Tora then pins him tighter, grunting on his skin almost distractedly, like he doesn’t even realize he’s almost clinging onto him. ‘I do you _best_ ’ he grits out again ‘you can’t tell me he’s better than this’ he’s running the tip of his nose on Uruha’s neck and his throat now, breathing hot and elaborate on the sensitive skin behind his earlobe. ‘I fuckin’ touch you first, I fuckin’ touch you best, I know,’ he then bites the crook of his jaw. Uruha strains not to moan. Not that that’ll help. Tora always feels it when he shivers.

A chuckle now comes from the back of his ear again as Tora reaches out and bunches up a handful of silken hair out of the way so he could start trailing his lips on his neck more thoroughly. There’s actually something to point out about how Uruha have one hand free now, but he’s still not stopping anything. Tora grinds their hips together and- yes, see, they’re both hard, of course they are.

‘Does he know how sensitive your neck is?’ Tora mouths the nape of his neck. Uruha stays quiet. ‘No? How about the small of your back?’ convinced that the other won’t fight him off now, he wraps his other hand around that slim waist, fluttering fingers on the patch of skin exposed as the blond’s shirt rides up. Uruha shudders again. ‘Still no? Do you come ever when you fuck? Do you beg him to go faster and harder? Does he know just how fast? How hard?’ Tora grinds down again, tearing a whimper from between Uruha’s lips.

‘Does he even know you like it _rough_ and _forceful_ , like how it burns when you walk for days after, and jerk off on it? Hmm?’ as each word got harsher; Tora grinds down faster, dry-humping him against the wall. ‘Come on, Uruha, does he know how you like being tied down, spread out, completely at my mercy?’ Tora asks as his other hand turns Uruha’s face and forces their eyes to meet ‘have you told him how you’ll come when I told you to? Has he heard you scream my name?’

Another whimper came out of Uruha’s mouth, an octave higher, and Tora groans in return before plunging his tongue in.

There’s no point in fighting this now, the blond knows this, not when they’re still fully clothed and yet he’s already so turned on, he feels like he’s losing his mind. So he opens his mouth wider and sucks Tora’s tongue in. The latter groans again appreciatively, a hand fisted in Uruha’s hair again, pulling hard so he’s forced to tilt his neck higher. He wraps one long leg around Tora’s own and grinds up, slow and forcible, and Tora’s brain almost short-circuited.

God. He’d craved this _so bad_ , it was the worst thing ever in the last few months when he could see the other up close but could never touch, not with the ‘boyfriend’ (a non-competition, his brain decided the first time they met) around all the time. God, _naked_. They need to be naked, right now. Tora’s fingers itch for more skin, and he needs him under his body, warm and pliant for him.

He tears his mouth away from the kiss and mumbles against white, white throat- ‘wanna fuck you so bad,’ he sucks at the skin there, wanting to place the first mark on Uruha since too long a go. Then he looks at him in the eye. ‘Is that okay?’ and he’s really asking cause Uruha needs to really want this. That was what made them so good (and so, so wrong) with each other before.

Uruha stares back and his eyes are clearer than before, like he’s really contemplating this. Tora really can’t blame him, they’re messy and incendiary and so fucked up together. They brought along all of their emotional baggage to the table, everything raw and brutal and truthful about them, and mostly that didn’t help anything. But it did made them true, truer than they ever been with most people in their lives. Still, Uruha might not want that back.

> (except, he kind of already know that they can’t really stay away from each other, and if he walks out now he’ll just finds himself in a similar situation a few months later. They gravitate towards each other and collide again and again. They bruise and they scar and still they’re the only one that could tolerate the other.
> 
> It’s true that two wrongs don’t make a right, but it does make a hell of a ride) 

**A** nd here’s what happened next:

 

 

 

 

 

> (except, they kind of told me not to tell, and they’re kind of really intimidating . But I would’ve told you otherwise, really. Besides, I’m sure you could imagine what happened next, right?)

**Stop.**  


**Author's Note:**

> The fic previously called "this ship is gonna look pretty at the bottom of the sea (like dirty little secrets)". The title is, btw, stolen from (some of you might really don't wanna know, but-) an entry from Pete Wentz's old blog (dated December 14, 2006) 'be my unholy, my one and lonely. (the inside of my head, unfiltered).'


End file.
